


Behind a Raincoat

by Modernise



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: #I tried guise, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Depressing, Gen, M/M, Musically influenced, My First Fanfic, Rather shitty to be frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modernise/pseuds/Modernise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altaïr receives a letter which tears his life in half.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, which is why it's also very shitty.  
> This is not the first piece of literature that I have written, however, so fear not! :D  
> The fic was inspired by the song "Apartment" by Young The Giant (the title derives from a lyric).
> 
> Originally, I did not intend on making this fic as depressing as it is, but something made me change my mind. Probably the fact that Malik Al-Sayf is one of my most favourite characters of all time.

It seemed as if the sky was crying. It's cold, large tears harshly beating upon the ground. The firmament was not any nicer. It was just as grey as the cinerescent sidewalk Altaïr drearily shuffled upon. Altaïr, the clouds, and the sky, were brothers in arms, sharing the same sombre mood.

Although Altaïr was wearing a large, oversized raincoat which seemed to flap and hug around him lovingly like some loyal comrade, he didn't seem to notice that he was completely _drenched_ in water due to the rain. Normally, as any other hydrophobe, he'd begin to panic, but how could he realise that he was soaking wet when he really did not care? When he did not want to care? He pulled the raincoat tighter around himself.

He wished that he could just dismiss every single thought from his head. To just press some red button that said the words ' **RESET** ' bolded in big, white letters. He tried to forget his grief, but that seemed almost impossible since his smell still lingered on Altaïr. Altaïr could almost feel his rough skin. Altaïr could almost hear him teasing and chastising about every little thing that Altaïr did. Altaïr could almost smell him, his painstakingly provocative scent redolent of some pleasant, expensive cologne.

Altaïr shook his head and groaned with a frown tugging at his lips.

 _No_.

He wouldn't remember anything of him.

He'd forget all the memories.

It would be to his benefit.

But Altaïr couldn't compel his conscious to rid himself of all those mental memento's spent with him. As painful as it was, he couldn't bring himself to forget.  

**\~*~/\~*~/\~*~/  
**  

The rain didn't seem to pity him. It just kept pouring harder and harder, as if to mock Altaïr.

Altaïr simply disregarded it, something which his normal self would _never_ do. Something he would never do if he was alright. But that's the thing. He wasn't OK.

Altaïr kept walking and walking and walking and walking on the infinite strip of sidewalk that twisted and turned around every corner.

He didn't care that he was tired.

He didn't care that his legs ached. He simply dismissed the pain, as he had done so many times earlier before all this madness.

He didn't care that his head pounded.

He didn't care about the fact that his skin got goose flesh due to the chill of the water clinging to his skin, constantly reminding him of the fact that he might as well be swimming in the Arctic Ocean since a breeze kept blowing on his already soaked skin, making it prickle.

He didn't care that there was a knot in his stomach, even though its prescence slowly killed him. 

He didn't give a damn about anything. He never gave a damn about anything.

Except for this one person. But under these circumstances, he wasn't required to a single fuck.

And yet he still did.

He just wished that things had been different.

Altaïr slid his blanch hand inside the pocket of the coat he was wearing. His hand trembled, water streaming down his knuckles like the tears he would never shed. He fingered the piece of paper inside the pocket. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around it's worn edges, tightly grasping the crinkled parchment. His fists clenched around it, though it was crumbled up beforehand. His hand slowly exited the pocket of the raincoat. His hand still trembling, still dripping with water like a cascade.

He already knew what was on it. He had already memorised every single word it said. He already knew that he couldn't change it. He had spent the past couple of hours blankly staring at the paper. He simply stared until his eyes burned, yet he still kept his eyes pasted on it.

Among all the meaningless jumbles of words, there was only one particular section that stood out the most, etched in his mind as if it was a tattoo. 

" **Malik Al-Sayf  
** **1982-2006?  
** **Status: Missing In Action** "


	2. Blame it on the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altaïr gets nostalgic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I am officially done. I mean it both ways. Like, I'm 5000% done with depressing myself and I've also finished this fic aha. First complete fanfic! I'll post the next and final chapter after I post and modify this one. I've just realised that chapters 2/3 and 3/3 are rather poetic; written free-verse style. But alright, enjoy. (:

It had only been less than forty-eight hours and he was already reacting in such a manner. He was sure that Malik would scoff and call him a novice if he knew that Altaïr was reacting so "dramatically", as he called it.

Altaïr stopped walking.

He hadn't realised where his body was bringing him until he looked straight ahead. He only saw the horizon.

He then realised that he had walked all the way to the edge of a cliff, standing dangerously close to the edge.

He realised that only one jump would end it.

He wasn't that far from heaven, or hell. He was sure it'd be hell. After all the things that he's done. He'd basically done everything some old religious book told him not to do.

But just one quick spring and it'd be over.

He was so close.

A bit too far for his liking, however. He walked closer, and closer, and closer towards the edge.

He peered down.

The only thing he saw were the ocean waves greedily devouring those pointy, jagged, pyramid-like rocks.

"This would be a wonderful place to do a leap of faith," he muttered to himself, half serious and half jokingly.

Frankly, he was expecting Malik to give one of his famous sarcastic replies.

"Oh right," he murmured when he didn't hear Malik's voice. "You're too busy being missing in action,"

The only thing he received in response was the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks sixty feet below him.

It sounded as if they were screaming at him. Screaming like Malik would.

He smiled. 

 

**\~*~/\~*~/\~*~/**

Altaïr sat on the edge of the cliff.

He did his best to make himself comfortable.

He took off the rather baggy raincoat he'd been wearing. It was one size too large.

It was once Malik's.

Everything about it screamed Malik. It still smelled like him, but barely.

The rain had washed it all off. Altaïr despised the rain for that.

One of the arms of the raincoat had more wrinkles than the other, since Malik had folded and pinned it so many times due to his lack of one limb.

Altaïr's heart throbbed.

All he did was take, take, take from Malik. He never gave anything. He never helped Malik in any way or form. Malik never benefitted from Altaïr's presence.

Altaïr shook his head.

He had been right. He _was_ a novice.

There was so much he had wanted to say, but it wasn't until he was gone that he had decided to articulate it.

"I wasn't kidding when I said that I'd deteriorate without you," Altaïr whispered.

This time, he didn't stop and wait for a response. He knew that he wouldn't get one.

The waves seemed to quiet down a bit.

"I am such a selfish bastard. All I did was take. I took everything from you. The only thing that you had left was your life, which is gone now too," he continued.

"You deserved every right to call me all those names. I deserved to be called them. Fuck, it's what I am. I would have tattooed them on my forehead, just for you,"

The breeze calmed down a bit.

"But at least I can live with the comfort of knowing that you'll be with Kadar,"

Altaïr sighed.

"Even if it does mean that you will be here no longer,"

Altaïr's eyes started to sting. His cheeks felt moist.

It was still raining.

He blamed it on the rain.


	3. Let it be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altaïr knows that you let go of the things you love. But why is it so hard for him all of a sudden?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, this is it. I am finished with this fanfic. I was thinking about extending it a bit, but I abruptly changed my mind. Either way, I hope I don't end up killing anyone from the sheer cheesiness of this chapter. Oh, and there's an allusion somewhere in this chapter; it's an allusion about a book which is extremely famous, yet it's also a book which I have never read. I did not intend for this allusion to occur, I only realised it until after I typed it. Oh well, I hope you enjoy. (:  
> \- Cheers

They say that if you love something, you'll let it go.

And that is exactly what he did.

Altaïr grabbed the abused piece of parchment detailing Malik's Missing In Action status.

He then dug deep into the pockets of his jeans. When his hands resurfaced, a lighter appeared between his clenched fist.

Slowly, a flicker of ember appeared.

It wobbled its way towards the paper.

Slowly, the smell of burning paper wafted through the air.

Altaïr's hand felt the warmth of the fire.

Slowly, Altaïr let go of the blazing object.

The rain seemed to have no effect on it.

Slowly, the paper danced away.

Altaïr watched it go.

It left a trail of ashes.

It reminded Altaïr of sparkling faerie dust. He chuckled a bit at how childish he was.

Altaïr watched until the paper became nothing more but a speck of dust.

Nothing more but a figment of his imagination.

And maybe if he tried hard enough, all this would be a figment imagination.

He'd just wake up and Malik and his arm would still be there, Kadar would still be there, those light-hearted insults would still be there, all those heated arguments would still be there.

But no matter how hard he tried, it was just as real as that dread he felt in the pit of his stomach.

 

**\~*~/\~*~/\~*~/**

Altaïr fingered Malik's raincoat.

It was quite nice. It technically wasn't really a raincoat.

It was a long, beige double-breasted Burberry coat, complete with buttons. Altaïr still liked it. It did its best to keep him dry.

And Malik looked good in it.

While other guys would look hideous in a coat like that, its colour complimented Malik's bronze skin tone. The coat was a nice shade of beige.

Altaïr longed his presence.

The last time he saw Malik was about a week ago. They got into an argument. Malik left in anger. A couple of days passed, and Altaïr received the letter.

Oh, how he longed for a time machine so he could go back in time and fix his mistake. It was definitely the biggest mistake of his life. Well, with the exception of making Malik lose his arm and sibling.

Nonetheless, still his worst mistake yet.

Altaïr played for a bit with the coat. He then stood up.

He had spent about fifty minutes at the cliff.

The sun was starting to set, and the moon was getting ready to take over.

Altaïr then knew what he had to do.

He grabbed the Jasmine flower he brought with him. He hadn't even realised that he had it until then.

He held the delicate flower, careful not to damage it. It was very precious to him. It was a symbol of Malik, as it was his favourite flower.

He enjoyed drinking Jasmine tea. Altaïr smiled at that.

He then reminded himself that he wasn't to get nostalgic.

His smile quickly disappeared.

With Malik's coat in one hand, and with the Jasmine flower in his other hand, Altaïr took a moment to close his eyes.

The rain had stopped just a couple of minutes before.

Altaïr's cheeks were still wet. It wasn't from the rain.

He smelled the salty scent of the ocean.

He smelled the sweet fragrance that the Jasmine flower gave off.

He smelled some of the cologne still left on Malik's coat.

He opened his eyes.

He knew what he had to do.

Altaïr's fingers unwillingly curled open.

He didn't want to do it, but he knew that if you loved something you had to let it go. Oh, how he wished that this wouldn't be true.

The Creed had taught him and Malik that " _Nothing is true, and Everything is permitted_ ,"

But if nothing was true, then why did _this_ , of all things, have to be true? And Altaïr would gladly kill the bastard who had "permitted" Malik to go missing in action. A clean slice to his throat. Eye for an eye. Altaïr didn't care if it was an "innocent". That would teach them. Nobody can go snatching Malik away from him. Absolutely no one.

Altaïr suddenly realised that the coat was flying in front of him. Was it possessed? He stiffened for a moment. Was it Malik? He then relaxed and realised that it was the breeze. The breeze had strengthened.

Altaïr sighed and felt his heart break into a million pieces.

That was the last souvenir he had of Malik.

Gone.

All gone with the wind.

The coat slowly disappeared, suddenly seeming a million miles away.

Altaïr wanted to chase after it. To just turn into an eagle and fly and snatch it and claim it his again. As he wanted to do with Malik.

There was so much that he wanted to do, so much that he wanted to say, but it never happened. And so the coat shared the same fate.

Altaïr then knew that it was his time to leave.

The stars twinkled brightly in the sky. He observed how one outshined all the other stars.

He named it Malik.

Within seconds, the Jasmine flower too was dancing in the wind.

Now the only thing he could smell was the ocean.

No more Jasmine.

And, even worse, no more expensive cologne.

Altaïr slowly began to retreat back.

He was done here.

He swore to himself, he swore on his sanity, hell, he swore on the fucking Creed that he would never return.

He'd gladly go anywhere but here. Even for all the money in the world.

"Goodbye, my friend," Altaïr managed to whisper.

His throat suddenly felt dry. His head pounded. His heart ached like crazy. There was a knot in his stomach. He felt like complete, and utter shit.

In a way, he didn't really want to leave. He wanted to build a house on the edge of the cliff and just live there forever. But he knew that he would go mad if he stayed here a second longer.

It pained him to know that. The Son of None slowly walked backwards, back into the only place he knew. The only place he felt safe. The place which he proudly considered his second home.

He retreated back into the shadows. The adumbral abyss, embracing him like an old friend.

" _Ana Ouhebak_ *,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:  
> * Ana Ouhebak = "I love you" in Arabic  
> There are various ways of saying "I love you" in Arabic, since many countries have it as their official language, hence there are also various Arabic dialects. I just chose the standard Arabic version

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism is accepted, no matter how harsh.  
> I truly do not mind, as I understand that my works are not perfect and have things which could be improved upon. (:
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read, or even skim through, this fic. <3


End file.
